


Born to be with you

by BuckyBarnes8999



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Appalachia, Fishing, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, Period Typical Attitudes, Period Typical Bigotry, Religion, Religious Content, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyBarnes8999/pseuds/BuckyBarnes8999
Summary: James Barnes brings the weird sickly kid into his fold and they raise hell in Appalachia.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Fishers of men

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from an old bluegrass song I like of the same name.  
> The tags are gonna evolve as more chapters are added.

That Rogers boy didn't go to school. Heck, hardly any of the boys his age could. Wether it was because their folks couldn't afford to lose the help around the house, or if they just didn't care for schooling. 

Most kids learned the basics of reading and writing at home anyway. Copying their names and learning verses out of The Bible. 

That's how James had learned that's probably how James' daddy had learned too.

What made this Rogers boy stand out was the word that he was _sickly_ , was the reason he didn't go to the little one room schoolhouse. 

To be honest most folks around town thought the Rogers were odd. But the widow woman and her sick boy were peaceable to say the least. 

James had spied him once or twice, walking in town, clutching to his Mama's dress tail. But that had been years ago.  
But it was true boy was scrawny, skinny, sick looking.

James tried approaching him once while his ma shopped at the general store. Rogers just looked at his shoes, almost like he didn't know how to talk to folks. 

The only thing that got a response out of the towheaded young man was when James snuck his hand in the candy jar while the clerk wasn't looking.

The smile that graced the Rogers boy's face could have lit up the darkest Appalachian night. "Come on." James pocketed the two striped sticks of candy and beckoned Rogers out of the store. 

James sat then down at the corner of the store out of sight of the wide glass window.  
"Here." He offered one of the sticks to the boy who took it with another of those full moon smiles.  
"Thank ya." The boy said popping one end into his mouth.

Candy was a great treat for most folks. Especially now. James wasn't sure what Wall Street was or why it was so important. All he knew was they were now in what his daddy called a Depression and suddenly most folks went from poor to worse.

". . . 'm James." James offered, leaning back, twirling the end of his piece of candy in his mouth, working it to a point.  
He regarded the boy now, fully. His overalls looked like a hand-me-down's granddaddy. They were rolled up, the legs nearly doubled up at the knee. Unlike James he wore shoes and socks. The shoes, James reckoned came from the church boxes they delivered around Christmas to poorer families. 

"Steve, um, Steve Rogers." Steve wiped his hand on his britches leg and offered it to James, who shook it firmly.  
"I seen you before, at church." 

"I reckon you have. My Mama plays the piano." James nipped the sharp tip off and slipped the rest of his stolen candy into his shirt pocket. "How come you don't come out with the rest of us youngins?" 

"I got asthma. I take pneumonia fever real easy too." Steve's skinny fingers were twirling his stick of candy just as James had earlier. 

"What in the hell is asthma?" James cocked his head.

"You cussed." Steve laughed, not really sounding accusatory.  
"Asthma is. . . Stuff aggrevates my lungs and it stops me breathin'." His free hand subconsciously inched to his chest, gripping the bib of his overalls. 

James' utterance of "Damn." Made Steve laugh softly again. 

A small bout of the Asthma Steve had described was demonstrated when an old model A Ford rumbled down the street kicking up dust and a cloud of smoke. 

Steve dropped his candy, breath coming in in ragged wheezes. He fumbled around the pocket of his overalls and pulled out a thin tin can of cigarettes. James read the side of the package "Kellogg's Asthma Cigarettes". 

James rushed to help him, seeing as he was liable to drop the tin at a moments notice. "Here." He said "ease up on it!"  
He held the cigarette steady and struck match on the floor. 

By the time he could breathe again, Steve had a slight sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Lord 'a Mercy. You wasn't shittin' that's some tough stuff." James whistled, clapping Steve on the back. " Are y'alright?" 

Steve nodded and coughed a few more times. They sat in companionable silence for a while.  
"I remember you from Sunday school. When we was little." Steve gave him a sidelong look. "They called you something different back then didn't they? What was it? Bucky?"  
Steve laughed, taking another long drag off his cigarette. 

James threw his head back and laughed deep and long. "Too many Jameses and nobody could pronounce Buchanan." He said with tears of laughter in his eyes. "Didn't think anybody remembered that!" 

"Well I don't do much so I hold on to stuff." Steve turned solemn. "Just do what I can around the house. Get in the corn, milk the cow, that kind of stuff. Even then. . . Well that asthma." 

James cleared his throat trying to keep the conversation light. "So. Me n some of the fellers are goin fishing at first light, down on Powder Creek if you wanna go." 

Steve rolled his dropped candy around on the ground with the toe of his shoe. "I'll have to ask Ma." 

"Come on Stevie, this ain't an 'askin ma' type of adventure!" He surprised Steve by popping his own stick of candy between Steve's lips. "Say you'll come or I'll take it back." He laughed, holding onto the end of it. 

Steve slowly nodded in defeat and James let go of the candy. "I'll be around your place. You got a pole? If you ain't got one, I'll cut you a cane pole."

"I got my daddy's old pole." Steve murmured. 

James smiled wide and patted Steve on the shoulder. "Bring a tater or something for dinner. We won't get done til suppertime."  
With that he stood and dusted his straight legged britches off. "See you in the mornin' Rogers." 

Steve gave him another sheepish smile, pausing in sucking on the stick candy. "Sure thing, Bucky." 

James walked away, shaking his head and saying "Bucky" under his breath. 

That night at supper James asked his ma and pa more about the Mysterious Rogers Boy.

"Lord I remember when me doc Norton went up to that little shack of theirs to deliver that baby!" Not only was James ma the church pianist, but also the towns resident midwife and busybody extraordinaire. James gave her rapt attention.  
"Little thing came out half dead and fish belly white! He wasn't no bigger than a starved cat! Lord did he holler and squall though! He was the pride of his poor daddy's eye though! He showed that skinny little feller to everyone who came close! None of us thought he'd live out the night though!" 

Her rambling was cut off by James' father clearing his throat. "That Rogers boy is good folks if he's anything like his daddy."  
He buttered his potato and fixed James with a withering look. "Next time you wanna treat your friends to candy. . . Ask me first. Act like I can't see you." He shook his head and was silent. 

James sheepishly hung his head.  
_________________________

Morning saw Steve Rogers rushing to get Polly the old cow milked. He gathered their chicken's eggs in a basket and put them on the table. He was up well before his ma and chose to fend for himself for breakfast. He poured himself some of the milk and broke up a big piece of leftover cornbread in it. He ate it slowly with a spoon, looking over the Sears and Roebuck catalog as he ate. 

The racket that pulled him from his thoughts was like the gates of Hell opening up. He jumped up from his seat and threw the shutters open. 

Up the bumpy road to the Rogers house came a truck that looked so old it could have came over on the Mayflower. It was manned by a boy that looked younger than Steve himself and James was riding shotgun. 

Another boy was standing stoic in the bed of the truck, holding onto the roof, an old redbone hound beside him. 

Steve preemptively lit a cigarette due to the cloud of dust rolling behind them. 

When the driver began giving hell to the horn, Steve grabbed his pole and ran outside.

He was greeted by James' charming smile. "Climb up in back with Homer and Boone!" James called jerking his thumb the way of the bed of the truck. 

Homer offered his hand over the side, Steve let him help him up.  
The boy was tall and indeed very stoic looking, Steve placed them now, both James' friends were brothers. Homer and LeAnder Ruth. They said Homer had visions when he was younger, and LeAnder had always been a hellcat, fighting as soon as he could stand. 

Sarah Rogers dashed out on the front porch just as they started pulling away. 

"Don't worry Mrs Rogers! I'll bring ya boy back in one piece!" James called as they sped off. 

Steve pulled his bandanna up over his face to keep the dust out.  
If the truck sounded bumpy it drove worse. He had no clue how Homer could stand so perfectly still as they rode. 

They went down roads Steve didn't recognize, but he knew they weren't heading for Powder Creek. They were on the outskirts of town, going through ramshackle neighborhoods. When they stopped in front of a low brick house with a wide porch all the boys climbed out. 

When Steve made to jump out LeAnder grabbed him by the shirt collar and twisted him down to his level right into LeAnder's round freckly face. He had a black eye and a bandage on his nose. "Listen here, boy." He began, his accent was thicker than Steve or James'. "If you is one of them, egg suckin' white sheet wearin' sons-a-bitches, you can start walkin'. We's integrated round these parts." 

It took a while for Steve to piece together his meaning. "Huh? Oh!" He realized now they were in the Black neighborhoods. "I ain't prejudiced! My Ma's best friend is black!" 

LeAnder gave him another good shake and let him go. "Good. Come on."  
The smaller boy lead Steve the same direction Homer and James had gone, around the back of the house. 

The tallest girl Steve had ever seen stood leaning against the sill of a kitchen window, talking to James. She wore cutoff overalls and wore her hair in a single long plait down her back. "If y'all wanna wake the good-for-nothing up be my guest but he come home lookin more beat up than that Le over there." He heard her saying, giving a cursory wave in LeAnder's direction.  
"Come on Millie. Wake him up for us!" James was trying to be charming but Millie wasn't having any of it. She waved him off. "Boy I got my own shit to take care of, wake my no account brother up if you must but leave me out of it!" 

"Well you're no help at all Mill!" James exclaimed. 

"And you're a nuisance, James Barnes." She smiled as she said it. 

James bent down and plucked a yellow Daisy from the grass. He tucked it behind Millie's ear. The bright yellow brought out honey tones in her dark eyes.  
"Maybe you n me can go wake him up together Millie. So these fellas can watch Boone. . . Oh! They'll watch Mabel too!" 

For the first time Steve noticed a toddler on a string tied to the clothes line. She toddled around picking flowers, grabbing mostly handfuls of grass as she did. 

"Alright." Millie said with a sigh. 

James followed her through the back door into a dimly lit hallway. As soon as they were out of sight of the window he pulled her down for a slow kiss.  
The tall girl melted into him, letting him pull her in close.  
When they parted she rolled her eyes at him. "James Barnes you're gonna get both of us lynched one of these days." She laughed and practically kicked in the door opposite them.  
"Eddie DuPont! Getcho self up outta that bed! These fools is here to get you outta my hair!" 

In a flurry of quilts and long legs, Eddie extracted himself from bed, a sleepy ball of rage. He was practically the spitting image of his twin sister.  
"What fools?!" He demanded until he noted James' presence. "Oh this fool. Fishing?" 

James nodded and Eddie pulled on his overalls, neglecting a shirt. 

By the time they all piled back in LeAnder's truck they each had been given a potato and a small tomato by Eddie's mama, Willie Mae. Steve was thankful because he hadn't finished breakfast and had neglected packing anything for dinner. 

Once they did head for Powder Creek, their day really began. 

They parked the truck off the road, beside a cornfield. All the boys piled out and Steve followed, all nervous excitement. 

Homer let go of Boone's old rope lead and the dog barreled ahead knowing just where they were headed.  
Homer was silent while LeAnder and James argued about if they should fish first or go to the swimming hole first.  
Eddie was picking ears of ripe, yellow corn, catching them in the bib of his overalls. 

When they reached the bank of the river Homer dipped his fingers into the red clay mud and drew two lines across each cheek, diagonally. "I reckon we'll fish first." He stated and that ended Le and James' bickering. 

James went about setting up his pole. They had an old tin can of worms but it seemed they preferred to use some of the corn Eddie had picked as bait. 

Eddie didn't fish right away. He built a ring of stones and got a little fire started. Some of the corn he speared on sticks and left it near the fire to roast. 

Steve had never used a fishing pole before and just tried to mimic what the other boys were doing. 

"So." Homer began after a while. His voice was deep and calm like his exterior. "Since I'm oldest I call first story tonight." 

"Fair!" Le called as he wrestled his line out of a bush. 

The other boys were of similar consensus. "But new boy has to go second." Homers word was final. 

Steve was staring while James reeled in the first fish if the day. It was a smallish trout, just big enough to be worth eating.

Steve was so distracted by James' fish that he didn't notice his own line going taught til his pole was nearly tugged from his hands. 

"Watch your line there Rogers!" Eddie exclaimed beside him, reaching over to give Steve's pole a heard upward tug.  
Steve shouted in excitement and began wrestling the fish to shore. 

It was a huge trout and by the time Steve had wrestled it to shore he was winded. 

When he took his catch and sat by the fire, James broke away from the other boys and sat with him.  
"And you didn't wanna come." James laughed as he sat down on the old fallen log beside Steve.

"Reckon I stand corrected." Steve smiled, holding his cigarette between his teeth. "Y'all's alright folks I guess."  
Steve bumped his shoulder into James'. "But you could have told me your daddy owns the general store, Bucky." Steve smirked as he popped the left over but of stick candy into his mouth, tossing his cigarette. 

James gave him an expression, somewhere between curiosity and something Steve couldn't name. The longer James looked at him like that, the more uncomfortable Steve felt. "W-what Buck?" He asked. 

"You're something else." James snatched the candy out of Steve's mouth, sucked on it for a moment then thrust it back between the other boy's lips. "Glad you came." 

Steve gave him one of those smiles that lit the place up. "Me too." He agreed, shifting the candy to the side of his mouth. "So, you sweet on Millie DuPont?" 

James laughed at that. "I'm sweet on a lot of folks." He said licking his lips in a way that made Steve's insides quiver strangely. 

An exclamation of "now that's what I'm talking bout ol son!" From Le drew their attention to the creek bank. Le's rod was nearly bent in two and he was giving the reel hell. 

When he pulled up a sizable tree branch he cussed up a storm and chucked his pole in the bushes. 

That seemed to be Homer's cue to stop. He put his hook in one of the guides on his rod and leaned it against a rock. "Swimming time I then." He stated, shucking his shirt and undershirt. 

"Can you swim, Stevie?" James asked, pulling his shirt over his head. 

Steve shook his head. "Never had much of a chance to learn." He admitted.

"Don't worry, we won't let you drown"

"Okay." 

It was with that that a troupe of naked teenagers were running through the bushes to a swimming hole upstream. 

While Eddie, Homer and Le ran ahead, James took his time with Steve. He knew running in the dusty heat was probably not good for him. 

"So how old are ya, Rogers?" James asked breaking the silence. 

"How old? Bout to be fifteen, on the 4th of July." Steve stated, rubbing his hands through his hair. "You uh just turned Sixteen, March. I read in the church bulletin." He smiled. 

James nodded. "You read a lot? I do more than my share, but don't tell nobody, I don't want folks calling me egghead or something." James' laugh was easy. 

"I read some. I like adventure books. Y'know, stuff I'll never do." 

"My ass! We're gonna be regular Huckleberry Finns and Tom Sawyers this summer, Rogers, just you wait!" James threw his arm around Steve's shoulders, and gave him a playful shake.

Steve's laughter echoed through the sparse patch of woods they were trekking through. "We'll see how bad my mama tans my hide after this little adventure, Bucky." 

"Y'know you callin' me that is kinda growing on me, Stevie." 

Again Steve laughed. "Well _you're_ kinda growin on me, Buck." 

When they made it to the swimming hole, the other three boys were all splashing around already. 

When Steve and James stood on the bank Homer stood up his full height and held up both his hands. "Halt ye visitor! We have us a newcomer!"

Eddie and LeAnder grew deathly quiet as Homer waded out of the waist deep water. The red clay he had painted on his cheeks warpaint style was running down his chin. 

"Aw come on, fellas. Leave him alone." James groaned.

Homer was looking over Steve now. "Hush now, Barnes." Homer stated, "if he wants to swim in our swimming hole. Eat our fish, know our secret stuff, he's gotta be initiated." 

Eddie and Le flanked the elder Ruth boy now. Both nodded solemnly. 

"LeAnder Reginald Ruth, tell this here boy the guidelines." Homer delegated, to his sibling. 

Le wiped his nose with the back of his sunkissed arm and nodded purposefully, stepping up toe to toe with Steve. 

"Aight, boy, listen here, to be part of this here band of--- what you call us Homer? Oh right, merry miscreants. To be a part of all this here...you gotta swear to a few things. Understand me?" Le crossed his arms and locked Steve in his gaze. 

"I uh, yeah I understand." Steve practically peeped. All eyes were on him and it was more than he was used to. But he was having the time of his life, he wanted that Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn summer that Bucky had promised him.

"Aight, so first off. You gotta swear you ain't ever gonna be bigoted or prejudiced 'gainst no man or color or r'ligion. Swear it." 

"I swear." Steve crossed his heart. 

"Second, you gotta swear to always help littler folks than you. Now I know you ain't much bigger than a hill of beans, Rogers, but littler don't always mean in size. Theys folks out in the world who think it's a heap of fun to terrorize and belittle other folks and we don't hold with that. You gotta fight when you need to fight---." 

"Especially against them damn Kluxes." Eddie interjected, Le nodded in turn.

"I swear I'll help littler folks, and fight when I need to, especially against them damn Kluxes." Steve crossed his heart again. 

"Aight now, third off. . . Swear not to reveal the location of any fishin hole any of us men show ya, Amen."

"I swear!" 

"Alright then." Le nodded and stepped back to his brother's side. 

"Y' done good." Homer confirmed with a nod. "Eddie, do yer piece." He nudged Eddie forward. 

Eddie bent down and gathered up a good fingerful of the red clay mud and painted a stripe across Steve's face. It went over his nose and across each cheek. "My grandma was a full blooded Cherokee." He murmured as he stepped back. 

Homer fixed James with his wise gaze next. "James, chuck him in." 

"Come on Homer, he can't even swim." James protested. 

The Warpainted Steve gripped onto James' hand. "It's alright, Huck Finn remember?" He smiled at the older boy. 

James rolled his eyes. "You're as bad as them!" He exclaimed as he hoisted Steve up and started for the creek. 

Next thing Steve knew, he was airborne. His stomach did somersaults and suddenly he was underwater. 

The other four boys stood naked on the creek bank. "Better go get him." James said with a sigh when Steve didn't surface. 

He waded out into the cold Creek, being mindful of any slick rocks on the creek bed. When he got to the deepest part--- where he'd thrown Steve-- he ducked under and felt around for the boy. 

James grabbed a leg and hauled him out of the murky water. 

The first thing Steve did when he could breathe again was "so am I in?" 

Homer cracked a smile and nodded. "I suppose. But this time kick your legs or something."  
With a grunt of exertion the elder boy chucked him back out into the creek.  
This time Steve sort of stayed afloat, flailing his arms and legs. "come on Rogers! You're in there for a swim not an ice cream social! Paddle!" 

It took an hour of Homer tossing him in and James fishing him out before he could manage a passable doggy paddle. 

The other boys swam circles around him but the fact that he was managing made Steve swell with pride. 

When it started getting toward dusk, a chill set in. Seeing the way Steve's jaw was shaking with cold, James told them it was high time to see to their campfire.

Again James lagged behind to attend to Steve.  
"You did good, Rogers." James praised. They were still dripping water and out in the air Steve's shivering was more evident. 

"Did I? Thought I was more of a nuisance." He laughed shakily.

"Nonsense, Homer loved the chance to throw someone. Le thinks he's too big for horsing around like that anymore." He paused and Steve stopped too. James' fingers traced the crooked line if Steve's spine. Steve's pulse quickened. He didn't like drawing attention to the deformed spine he had. 

"Fact is, you have heart. You didn't give up. That's what counts in the long run." He pulled Steve under his arm and they continued on their way. 

Steve was feeling like he'd packed more living into this one day than he had in his whole life this far.  
He looked over at James' face in the dimming light. His nearly kempt hair, the light sunburn that graced the bridge of his nose. "You wanna come over to my place after church this Sunday, Bucky?" He asked without much thought.

James considered for a moment then nodded. "If your ma cooks good, sure." He laughed and Steve assured him that she did. 

"The barn cat just had kittens." Steve rambled. "Oh! And I can show you the stuff my aunt sent me from New York!" 

James smiled at him and let him talk the rest of the way back to their clothes and campfire. 

When they arrived back, Homer was cleaning fish and Eddie had produced a skillet from somewhere. He'd cut up all the potatoes his ma had provided and was frying them up. 

Steve would later learn the boys had a large stockpile of junk and equipment stowed both in Le's truck and in a hollowed out log half buried in the creek bank. 

Le was unrolling several thick blankets close to the fire. 

All Steve wanted to do was get back into his clothes so he could warm up. But he was still wet and knew he'd take forever to dry out in wet clothes. So like the other boys, he sat near the fire to dry off first.

"When we gonna start the tales?" Le asked over the crackling of the fire. He'd fished a small brown jug out of the creek and was passing it around. 

"Soon as I get the guts n scales off 'a this last trout." Homer stated. He had reapplied his warpaint and smoked a hand rolled cigarette as he worked. 

When the fish was gently frying beside the potatoes in the big black skillet, Homer cleared his throat and began to roll another smoke.

"So, y'all ever heard of Ma Black's beer joint?" There was a general nodding at mention of the speakeasy a corpulent widow woman ran out of her back room. 

Homer went on to tell the tale of the cursed table she supposedly had.  
Her husband had been murdered by an unknown man.  
"Chopped his head clean in two with an ax!" Homer said over the campfire, the flickering light casting eerie shadows over his face. He told them how the man had broke into the house and done the foul deed while Mr Black was counting out his bootlegging money.  
"Whoever it was killed him, musta been out just for blood cause he just left all them stacks of folding money and Mr Blacks dead body, slumped over the table." 

All the other boy's wide eyes were glued to Homer as he told the story. He told them how one night the beer joint had gotten too rowdy and a man climbed up on that very table and went to swing a club at the Sheriff. "I swear to you fellers, that table took a life of its own and walked that man right out the door! Nobody had ever seen anything like it!" People had apparently come from far and wide to see this table. Nobody could hold it down when it took a notion to walk. Ten men tried holding it down and not one could.  
"And they say Ma Black still uses that table as her bouncer."  
Concluded Homers tale.  
Everyone laughed and began passing around bits of food. They ate with their hands taking care not to burn their fingers. It was really good, Eddie was a decent cook.

"So new feller." Homer had Le's jug and took a long swig from it. "Your turn, tell us a tale."  
He passed the jug to Steve. 

Steve didn't know what he'd expected when you put the jug to his lips. When he swallowed fire immediately burned down his throat and into his belly. He coughed he'd never tasted alcohol before. He made a face and passed it to James. 

"A tale? I have one for y'all." Steve had just finished a book of Edgar Allen Poe and he made an entire performance of retelling "The Tell Tale Heart" 

Everyone collapsed into shrieks of horrified laughter as Steve exclaimed. "it's the beatin' of his wretched heart!!" 

They all went to bed that night under the stars, deciding it was too late already to be heading home with no headlights on LeAnder's truck. 

James and Steve bedded down close to one another, on one side of the fire.  
"I'm real glad I came with you Bucky." Steve whispered to the prone form to his left. 

"Me too. Your ma isn't gonna fly all to hell about you staying gone is she?" James asked, rolling to face him. 

Steve shrugged. "Never did it before, we'll see." 

James nodded and closed his eyes. As he was dozing off to the sound of crickets the chattering of Steve's teeth pulled him to wakefulness.  
"Lord, boy, come here." James got up and moved his bedroll beside Steve's and pulled both blankets up over them. 

James easily slotted Steve's body to his own. Steve was glad of the warmth and curled into the bigger boy. 

Soon both were asleep and dreaming of rafting the Mississippi.


	2. A small pilgrimage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve nearly missed out on their Sunday plans.
> 
> James has an excursion planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Sarah Rogers POV in this chapter.  
> It gets a little graphic.
> 
> There are heavy themes of period typical racism.

Mrs Rogers wasn't too mad especially when James turned on the charm. She even agreed to him coming over that Sunday after church. 

To be honest Sarah Rogers was just happy to see a smile on her boy's face. Happy he finally had a friend. It was a tragedy that he was so sickly but it seemed a sin for such a good boy to be lonely. 

For Steve, Sunday couldn't come fast enough. He rushed through everything, milking the cow, feeding chickens. 

He was so full of nervous anticipation that he couldn't even sit still to read his book. Or sketch in the old notebook he carried around.

By the time the day rolled around Steve was in no fit condition to even comb his hair let alone go to church.

He woke before the rooster crowed with a fit of coughing. He was drenched in sweat and when he tried sitting up, the room tilted and spun. He only just managed getting a cigarette to his lips.

It didn't seem to help.

When another fit of coughing started his ma rushed into the room. She'd had her boy enough years to let one fit of coughing in the night slide. But two? That meant something was wrong. 

She ran into Steve's tiny bedroom in nothing but her long flannel nightgown. "Steve?" She cried in question.

The boy couldn't get a breath in between coughs and ragged gasps to reply. Sarah sat on the edge of Steve's bed, the sweet straw the mattress was stuffed with crunching slightly as she sat. She put her hand to his forehead, no fever thank God. She began fumbling with the packet of Kellogg's cigarettes but noted there was one burning between his fingers. "Not helping?" She asked trying not to sound as frantic as she felt. 

Steve was in agony, each cough felt like it would crack his ribs. Each breath he managed to suck in felt like he was gurgling water or trying to breathe through a piece of straw.  
He shook his head in response to his Mama's question.

"I'll go get the doctor." Panic was rising in Sarah Rogers. Every time he had a fit like this she had to leave him alone. And leaving him alone might mean losing him. People in the bigger cities, she knew, could afford to have treatments waiting at home for this kind of thing. 

She put her coat on hastily over top of her nightgown. She left barefoot, her worn-thin shoes forgotten by the stove. She kept a calm, brave exterior until she closed the door behind her.

Once her feet touched the hard packed dirt road, she took off in a panicked sprint. Her heart hammered in her chest as she used naught but the predawn light to guide her down the road.  
Doc Norton's was only a mile away and the thought of his automobile was a comfort at least. The trip back would be quick. 

She stumbled, fell, scraped her knee, tearing her nightgown. She was on her feet again in an instant doggedly running the mile.

When she reached the doctor's house she banged on the door frantically. Doc Norton was a tall man, he wore a Stetson hat and a bola tie almost every day.  
When he opened the door to Mrs Rogers looking so upset, bleeding and harried he just nodded. The doc was already dressed, perhaps hadn't even slept the night before. Perhaps he'd been up all night on other calls. He was the only doctor in two counties after all.

"I'll get my bag." He stated in his gravel road voice.

He was only gone a moment and in that moment Sarah tried straightening herself up. It was of little use and she was suddenly feeling the scrape on her knee, it smarted something fierce. 

When he returned with his bag he took Sarah by the elbow and led her to his auto. He helped her up into the seat then, went to get the contraption going with the starting crank.

The engine rumbled and grumbled to life. Sarah couldn't help but thinking that this car and Doc Norton were very similar. Old, grouchy and reliable.

"Mrs Rogers," Doc began as they pulled up the drive. "You were a nurse before your husband passed, weren't you?" 

She nodded slowly. That seemed like a lifetime ago.  
Now she just took in laundry and did the odd bit of housekeeping. There were many frigid mornings and nights her shoes had frozen to the porch as she stood and scrubbed other people's linens on the old washboard.

Losing Joseph had been so hard. He'd been everything to her, treated her well, provided--- and not just financially-- he was a comfort, he cherished his family.

Sarah hated to admit she'd fallen apart. If it hadn't been for Steve, well, she knew she wouldn't have bounced back for far longer than it had taken.  
She just wished he was well enough to do everything those new friends of his could. He'd never even climbed a tree and the boy was pushing fifteen!

"Well Mrs Rogers, Sarah, since you are a nurse. . ." Doc Norton drew her from her thoughts and gave her a pointed look. "I'm gonna leave this nebulizer equipment with you." 

Sarah began to protest but he held up a large, careworn hand. "On the condition that you come work for me as a nurse. Glenda got herself eloped and moved all the way to Nashville. So I'm down my only nurse."

Sarah opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say, how to respond.

When they pulled into the yard she nodded. "I'll come work for you, Doctor." She stated solidly and led the way into the house. 

Steve was still coughing up a storm. The coughs were interspersed with gasping, choked breaths. 

Doc Norton put his bag on the table. "Get your washtub, fill it up with hot water and get that boy in it."

Sarah jumped to action, dragging their big old galvanized tin washtub into the kitchen. She put a big pot of water on the stove and used a bucket to fill the tub the rest of the way from the spigot on the sink.

Three pots of water had the bath heated to steaming.  
During that time, Doc had given Steve the once over, concluded there was indeed no fever. 

Once Sarah had gotten the bath drawn, she rushed into the room and stripped Steve out of his sweat soaked pajamas. She and Doc helped one another carry him to the tub.

When he was seated in the steaming water, Doc Norton prepared the nebulizer.

He put the glass mouthpiece to Steve's lips and gave the bulb a quick squeeze.

After a few moments, Steve was able to relax. His body was trembling and he was grateful to settle his bony back against the tub. 

He sat with his eyes closed while Sarah made coffee. His hand stayed subconsciously on his chest. 

"Thank you, ma, Doc." He stated after he caught his breath fully. 

The doctor nodded to Steve as he accepted the cup of coffee from Mrs Rogers.

Sarah leaned down and kissed the top of Steve's head. "Here." She plopped a cake of Ivory Soap into the tub with Steve. "Since you're in my washtub, wash." 

Steve watched the soap float around on top of the water between his skinny knees.

"I recommend a full days rest. So as not to aggravate the condition." Doc drained his cup of coffee and picked his hat up from where he'd tossed it on the table. "No horsing around, nothing strenuous." He waggled his finger at Steve.

"Yessir." Steve said politely.

With that Doc Norton left, nodding to Sarah. "See you in the office, first thing Monday?" 

A ghost of a smile tugged the corners of Sarah's mouth. "Bright and early, Doc." She confirmed.

Sarah disappeared into her bedroom and Steve finally picked up the soap.

By the time he'd thoroughly washed, his ma had come back out. She was holding a pair of worn but still very wearable long johns. 

"Here, put these on when you're ready. They'll be a little long on you but they're clean." She stated somewhat solemnly.

Steve had had to wear several items of his father's clothes over the years, mostly shirts and socks.  
He nodded to Sarah and she disappeared back into her room. 

Steve was exhausted from the attack and as the water cooled it set an ache in his twisted spine. The temperature coupled with the metal digging into his skin left him sore for sure. 

When he finally collapsed back into bed, Church and Bucky Barnes were the furthest things from his mind.  
He curled himself up in the sheets and tried to rest as the doctor ordered.

When one o'clock rolled around, James was sauntering up the concrete block steps to the Rogers' door. It was Sunday after all and he'd promised Steve he'd come by. Church or not, he wasn't going to stand his new pal up. 

He raised his hand to knock on the screen door but paused, seeing Mrs Rogers sitting at the dining table with her head in her hands.

She looked like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She looked like she'd been crying. Her yellow dress was getting threadbare in places even though it was relatively in-style, the waistline practically to the knees. As he observed, she blew her nose on a white handkerchief.

James frowned and backed quietly from the door.

His heart always led him to do right by folks. He'd scraped up bail money when Homer got himself locked up as a bootlegger. He brought Eddie's Mama medicine when she was sick.

He didn't know how to help the Rogers family. He knew it was a bad situation, with how sick Steve was and Mrs Rogers being a widow woman and all. Worst of all he couldn't fix Steve with a bottle of syrup from his Daddy's store. No, there was no tonic, serum or elixir to cure his friend.

Frowning profoundly he started down the dirt road toward town, with his hands crammed in the pockets of his Sunday suit.

It was almost an hour and a half before James did knock on the door of the Rogers house. 

"Anybody t' home?" He called. "Help a fella out!"  
His arms were laden with paper bags, his pomaded hair a mess.

Mrs Rogers ran to the door, looking more put together than she had when James had seen her last.  
James beamed at her.

"O-oh Bucky! We. . . I wasn't expecting--- come in!" She undid the latch on the screen door and stepped aside to let James in. 

"W-whats all 'a this?" She asked as James deposited his burden on the wooden kitchen table. 

"Well." James began unpacking things from the bags. "I figured since Stevie was all fired up for me to come over here t'day after Preacher Stepton'd finished bellowing at us and y'all didn't show. . . Something must'a happened."

He put a ready made white cake on the table, a few pounds of potatoes and other produce. The crowning glory of his parcels was a thick beef roast.  
"Figured Stevie took sick or something." He put a sack of flour into the pantry, moving around like he knew the place. "So I reckoned I'd just keep the invitation." 

As James was putting canned goods away, Mrs Rogers took him by the shoulders. "James, boy, I can't accept all these things." Her expression was somewhere between shame, heartbreak and laughter. 

James just looked at her with an open expression, "well I'm gonna help you eat em." He stated almost deadpan as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As if it were all anyone needed to excuse away at least eight dollars worth of groceries. 

The laughter won out for Sarah Rogers. It was better to laugh than cry anyway.

"Go see Steve." She said, briefly crushing James in a hug. "he's had a rough day. I think you may be just what he needs." 

James nodded and grabbed the only bag he hadn't unpacked and tucked it under his arm. Sarah pointed him toward Steve's bedroom and he went obediently. 

"You alive in this here crypt, Rogers?" He asked knocking on the dark-stained wood of the open doorframe. "Or has the Lord done laid you low for skipping church?"

Steve looked so small laying on the old straw tick mattress.

When James spoke he opened his eyes. A smile that touched something deep in James' core graced Steve's face. "Bucky. You came."

"Promised I would, didn't I?" He strode into the room and threw back the curtains. It let in more light than the dim electric bulb gave off. 

"Scoot over." He urged as he crawled into bed with Steve, suit, dress shoes and all.

Steve moved to accommodate the other boy's larger frame. "What you got in the sack?" Steve gestured to the paper bag James still held.

James smiled broadly. "A treat." He said, reaching out to smooth Steve's floppy bangs. Steve swatted his hand away, grinning.

"What kinda treat?" He asked almost shyly.

"Close your eyes." James instructed. 

Steve obliged.

"Open your mouth." There was a rustling of paper and packaging. 

Steve opened his mouth and James popped something slightly round into his mouth. It began to melt and Steve chewed. "Chocolate!" Steve exclaimed, opening his eyes at last.

"Imported. Not that cheap stuff they cut with wax or whatever the hell." He lifted another chocolate out of the little pasteboard box they were in  
. He pressed it to Steve's lips and, Steve opened for the sweet treat  
. Indeed he could taste the quality in it, it was rich and creamy. 

James smiled at him and popped one into his own mouth.  
James' eyes rolled back slightly and he groaned. "They're amazing." He stated. "But you never tasted nothin' if you ain't had one with a fresh strawberry." James' mouth watered as he thought of it. "Next spring, Rogers. . . I'm going to change your world with strawberries." 

Steve laughed softly and James wiggled down into bed with him. "Your ma said you took sick this mornin'?"  
James had his head on Steve's shoulder, looking up at him.

"Real bad asthma spell. On the bright side ma got a job out of it. A regular payin' job." Steve smiled feeling like he was finally of use for something.

"A spell worse than at the store?" A little flicker of fear passed over James. That was scary. Even scarier now that he knew Rogers like he did, now that they were friends.

"A whole heap worse." Steve's hand crept to his chest in memory. "Ma had to get Doc Norton."

James' hand slid under Steve's and rubbed a firm circle. "Sorry pal. Don't go croakin on us."

Steve laughed and pushed playfully at James. "I'll try not to Bucky." 

They were quiet for a time, the only sound being James borderline inappropriate utterances every time a bite of chocolate touched his tongue. 

"Say, Bucky?" Steve said breaking their companionable silence.

"Hmm?" James sat the candy aside and gave Steve his attention. 

"Can we go to the creek again soon?" Steve smiled hopefully. 

"Well 'course. . .what else would be the settin' for a Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer adventure?" The pair both laughed like little kids. 

Their laughter increased tenfold at Steve's quipping "Buck Finn and Tom Rogers."

James snorted with laughter, holding his stomach. "That's right!"

Their fits of laughter ended and both boys had tears in the corners of their eyes. 

"You gonna feel up to a drive tomorrow, Stevie?" James asked when he'd caught his breath. "Me n you and Le's truck?"

"Well yeah." Steve replied. "Can you drive it better than Le?"

"We'll have to see bout that now." James shifted on the old mattress and something poked his elbow. He frowned and felt around the covers. When he produced Steve's notebook, Steve tried snatching it away. 

"Oh ho ho you keeping a day diary?" James chuckled and flipped the book open. "Holy. . ."

Steve snatched the book away and held it to his chest.

"Did you draw them things?" James asked, full of wonderment. "Can I please see?"

Steve sighed and handed the book over. 

James flipped through pages. There were drawings of cows, houses, chickens. Many of Mrs Rogers.  
There were even sketches of Powder Creek.  
"These are amazin' Stev-- is that me?" He flipped the page to a drawing that was clearly James. He was leaning back on a boulder beside the creek, smiling and looking away. It was a near perfect likeness.

James blushed brightly. "Jesus, Steve. You need a proper drawin' book. Blank paper, not this line ruled stuff." 

"I had one." Steve turned on his side just slightly and looked fully at James. "Filled it up. My aunt in New York sent it." 

"Fancy feller with Yankee aunts, eh?" James laughed. "You can draw me whenever you take a notion to, Stevie." His words came out slow and soft, his fingers once again moved Steve's hair out of his face.  
Steve touched James' hand, smiling softly. James returned the smile and leaned in close. Steve panicked for only a brief moment, what was James going to do? Why was he coming so close? 

James ended up resting his forehead on Steve's.  
"You need to take care of yourself boy. Can't have adventures if you're laid up sick." With that, James slid down in bed, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist.

The smaller boy was shocked how quickly James could go to sleep. He sat staring down at him for a long moment with his mouth pressed into a tight line. With an utterance of "urgh!" He slid down too and closed his eyes.

James adjusted his grip, snaking his arms under and over Steve, wrapping him up like an octopus.

Steve again stared in incredulous silence at the boy in his bed. Slowly, slowly, Steve fell asleep too. 

They awoke some hours later to Mrs Rogers calling them to supper. Steve hadn't been lying when he'd said Mrs Rogers could cook good.

Everything was delicious, from the cornbread to the fresh picked green beans.

They all made smalltalk over their meal. James promised a pint of buttermilk the next time he came. He touted the delicacy that was cornbread and buttermilk saying; "you think cornbread and sweet milk is good, just wait til you eat it with buttermilk." He sighed thinking of the tart, thick liquid. 

When Mrs Rogers brought out the store-bought cake, James got an almost lustful look in his eyes. 

The night ended with everyone laughing, including Sarah Rogers. 

When James had left, reminding Steve to be up and ready for him around 7am, Sarah took her son by the shoulders. 

"I thank God you made a friend in that boy." She stated, somewhat surprising Steve. He had figured she would disapprove, that she'd be too concerned with his health. He beamed up at her. "Me too ma." He replied.

__________________ 

Steve stayed up extra late, getting a few chores done. He pulled some corn, picked a half bushel basket of beans and fed the cow and chickens

. By the time he was done he was sufficiently tired enough that the old straw tick was calling him.

He was woke by the sound of Le's truck rattling up the road.  
Was it seven already?

Steve rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed. Hurriedly, he put on a clean pair of britches and a shirt, the britches were a half size big so he was forced into putting on galluses. He scanned his tiny bedroom for anything he might be forgetting. He pat his pockets, cigarettes, matches, fifteen cents. 

His eyes fell on the half eaten box of chocolates James had brought. Thinking James would be appreciative, he brought them along as he ran out the door.

James beamed at him from the truck, indeed it was just them. 

Steve climbed in when James reached over and pushed open the door. 

"Uh, I brought these." Steve held up the chocolates. 

"Oh brother, treat a fella well why don't ya, Stevie!" James reached into the box and popped one into his mouth. 

It seemed like being outside the house made his sounds less reserved. His eyes rolled back and he moaned deeply as the rich, creamy chocolate coated his tongue. "My God." He groaned helping himself to another.

"Did'ja eat breakfast, Rogers?" He asked as they pulled out on the main road. 

Steve hadn't but it wasn't really on his mind when he woke. Steve shook his head.

"Good cause I'm treatin' ya. You ever eat at a cafe?" He asked, glancing over to watch Steve's face. 

Steve's eyes widened. "Heck no." He replied, they'd never had the money to spare on such frivolous notions as a cafe.

"Well the rewards of helping me out today is dinner at a cafe." James turned down a long road Steve had never been down.

"Just what exactly are we doin' today, Bucky?" Steve finally thought to ask as he stared at the fields passing on either side.  
Rows and rows of ripe and ripening corn, lining the road like a great hedge. It almost made the road feel private, intimate. It was like they were the only folks on the Earth.

"Well, we're takin us part loafering trip and part business trip. We gotta go to Truth Springs to pick up a shipment for daddy's store. After that we got the day in town there. . ." His eyes seemed to glaze. "They got an ice cream parlor in Truth Springs." 

Steve laughed at James' eagerness to get anything sweet into his mouth. James grinned at him. 

The forty mile ride was peaceful. James did indeed drive better than LeAnder--- though nobody would ever tell Le that.

Cornfields gave way to cow pastures the closer they got to Truth Springs. When they passed a big wooden sign with "EAT" hand painted on it, Steve's stomach growled.

James heard it over the rumble and rattle of the engine. He snorted with laughter and promised to stop at the cafe. 

It was a mile down the road and the boys piled out as soon as the engine was cut. It was a low building with glass windows in front, one could smell food cooking from the outside. 

Steve had just placed his hand on the doorknob when James uttered: "Aw hell!" And turned around.

"What's the matter, Bucky?" He asked, crestfallen to see James climbing back into the truck.  
James sighed deeply, taking off his hat and mopping his brow with his arm.

"You surely remember them oaths you took on the creek?" 

"Well yeah?" Steve cocked his head. 

"We do take em serious. Don't associate ourselfs with any prejudiced bigots." He pointed to the window of the cafe where another, less inviting sign hung.  
**"No Coloreds Allowed"**

It left a sour taste in Steve's mouth. "Understood!" Steve nodded, forcing his hunger down. "Wouldn't want to eat with any of them folks anyhow." He hopped back into the truck and James sped off in a cloud of dust. 

"Don't worry. I know plenty of good places in Truth Springs. We ain't far now." He reached over and pat Steve's hand. "Eat'cha a piece of candy to hold you over." 

Steve obliged himself and slowly ate one of the chocolates.  
There were a few houses and clapboard shacks dotting the countryside now.

"Gotta put some juice in this thing." James pulled off at the first little gas station they passed and told the attendant to fill it up.

He told Steve to wait in the truck while he went into the grimy little store.

Steve helped himself to another chocolate while he waited.  
James returned with two NE-HI grape sodapops. 

He stood at Steve's window and handed him one through.

"Hold still." James instructed, reaching his hand to Steve's face. He used his thumb and swiped across Steve's lips slowly.

Steve's stomach did somersaults just as it did when he'd been tossed through the air. He couldn't begin to describe the feeling or name the emotion attached.

James pulled his thumb away smeared in chocolate. He stuck it in his own mouth and groaned softly. 

Steve nearly dropped his sodapop. 

When the gas station attendant finished and James paid, they were on the road again. 

Steve didn't have much of an appetite any longer, his insides were going wild. He didn't have butterflies or somersaults any more, he had a full Chinese Circus.

Steve had never seen a town bigger than his hometown, and Truth Springs was practically a city.  
Well, insofar as a simple country boy was concerned. 

The sights and sounds made Steve's gut settle some.  
"Lord a mercy!" He exclaimed looking at all the buildings, the cars, the people walking on the paved sidewalks. 

James chuckled beside him. "Never been nowheres have you, Stevie?" He turned off down a side street and backed into a dead end alley. 

"How'd ya guess?" Steve giggled. 

James looked at his watch "we're a mite early." He stated, surveying the landscape through the windshield. "Still hungry?" 

Steve looked at his lap, rolling the nearly empty glass NE-HI bottle between his hands.  
"A little." He stated, not really wanting to impose. James had already bought him a cold drink and everything.

"Well come on." James shook his shoulder. "I know a place." They left the truck parked in the alley and hoofed it down a few side streets.

The more they walked, the more Steve seemed to get the feeling that they were heading away from the neat little cafes and diners on the main thoroughfare. 

The buildings weren't clean and neat and freshly painted anymore.  
James kept up the talk, telling Steve about how lost he got the first time his daddy sent him on his own to the town.

The building they stopped at didn't much look like a cafe save for the sign hung outside.

_"Emmaline's.  
12¢ dinner" _

Was painted on an oblong board in bright red. When James mounted the steps he pulled Steve along and into the small establishment.

"If it ain't James Barnes!" Someone called as the bell jangled over the door. A petite black woman, who looked over eighty, came from behind the counter and pulled James into a hug. "Who's this you got here with you?" She didn't speak like she was from around here, she sounded more like a northerner.

"This is my new best pal, Stevie." He pushed Steve in front of himself. Best pal? Steve felt his cheeks grow warm. 

Steve offered her his hand.  
"Ma'am" he greeted politely.

"Steve this here's Miss Emmaline. She owns the joint." James was subsequently swatted with a rag. 

"This isn't a joint, Barnes. It's a café." She smiled and led them to the counter. 

Both boys hopped up onto a stool. Emmaline slid them each a hand written paper menu.  
Steve didn't know the first thing about a café, he'd let James take care of the ordering. 

He took the time to look around the cafe. The decor was simple, it could have been someone's house but for all the tiny tables packed into the space. 

There were a mixed bag of patrons, blacks and whites alike. Folks in suits and bindle punks. 

Steve smiled at that. He never held with racism. To be honest he never even understood it.  
As far as he was concerned, The Bible said all men were created in God's image and that meant black folks, Chinese and Mexicans too, not just whites. 

He'd had an image of a faceless, race-less God ever since he was a small child. 

A shimmering being who shifted colors in His own Light.  
God was everyone to Steve. 

Emmaline sat a cup of coffee down in front of Steve. He thanked her and took a sip.  
It was really good coffee, rich and dark. 

"Figured out what you want to eat?" James asked him, giving him that same look he had at the campfire that night, the curious and nameless one. 

Steve shook his head. "I don't know the first thing about all this, Bucky." 

James threw his head back and laughed. "That's alright, Stevie. Look here." He pointed at the menu. "looks like today she's either servin' hamburger steak or chicken stew." 

Steve ended up with the stew and James the steak. It was a more than generous helping of both.  
They laughed and cut up as they ate, James stealing carrots off Steve's plate. 

When they were full as ticks, James paid. He wouldn't hear of Steve paying for his own. He pushed the hand offering 15¢ away.  
Steve was a little ashamed but James ruffled his hair and tucked him under his arm. More and more that gesture was starting to make Steve feel nice. Secure, perhaps. 

They took a different route back to the main road.  
They wound through neighborhoods and along a short section of railroad tracks.

They stopped off at a paper goods store and James bought Steve a new tablet of blank paper. It wasn't fancy drawing paper but it didn't have lines.

"Only stipulation is you gotta draw me in it first thing." James laughed as he gave the parcel to Steve. 

Steve couldn't help but throw his arms around James. 

James laughed and dragged him along. "It's high time to pick up that delivery." He stated, making a beeline for the truck. 

He didn't make Steve help load but he helped anyway.  
He stood in the back of the truck and pushed the few boxes into a secure position. 

When the work was done they sat on the sidewalk, leaning against the front of the truck. "Well you for sure worked off your dinner, Rogers." James was laughing. 

Just then a girl in an ankle length gingham dress stopped in front of them She held her hand up to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun. "James, is that you?" She said in a cheerful voice.

James stood up and kissed her poffered hand. "Why Victoria Grace, what a pleasure." 

"You haven't been around in a while. I was starting to think you'd disappeared off the face of the Earth." She tittered, fanning herself. She was pretty, her hair done up in a swirling knot at the back of her head, held with a pretty comb.

The pair talked for a while, mostly James just being charming, flirting. When Victoria Grace leaned in stealing a kiss from James, the young man twirled her and pulled her to his side.

"Ey Stevie. Holler if anybody comes toward the alley." He instructed, ruffling Steve's hair as he passed, leading the girl behind the truck. 

He lifted the giggling and besotted girl to sit on the tailgate and pulled her face down to his. He kissed her chastely at first, then darted his tongue out over her plump pink lips. His hand slipped up her thigh.

Steve tried to tune out the little sounds he heard from behind him. He tried to push down the feeling welling up in him. He was jealous, he knew that much and a little embarrassed. But what on God's green Earth did Steve have to be jealous of? Some girl who hadn't even glanced at him?

The girl was moaning sharply though it was muffled by something. The truck was moving slightly, rhythmically rocking just a bit. 

Steve covered his ears. His mood was souring quickly and he couldn't sort his feelings out.

A while later the girl emerged from the alley first, looking a bit more disheveled than when she had entered. Her face was flushed and the tiny bit of makeup she wore was smudged.

"Wanna go to the ice cream parlor?" James' voice behind him, startled Steve into turning around.  
He had a sheen of sweat on his forehead that had nothing to do with the late June heat, he was buttoning his shirt and adjusting his belt. 

"Ice cream parlor?" Steve asked in a bit of a daze. Without thinking much of it, he reached out and wiped a smudge of light coral lipstick off James' neck, just below his ear. 

The flesh was still sensitive, all his nerve endings still on fire. The touch caused James to flinch a bit and a groan slipped from his lips. 

Steve paused with his hand in midair, his eyes wide, face red with embarrassment. "Yes. Ice cream." Steve said and marched mechanically out of the alley.  
James rushed after him.

"Wrong way, Stevie." He caught Steve by the shoulders and steered him the opposite way. 

Steve could smell Victoria Grace's soft perfume on him. Lily of the valley.

"Bucky, you really are sweet on lots of folks aren't you?" He tried joking but his chest was feeling tight. He lit a cigarette, as James guided him.

"Told ya I was, surprised I meant it?" 

After they had ice cream, James took them around a few places, needing to buy items for his ma and his sister Rebecca.

"Say, Stevie what size dress you say your ma is? Mines fatter'n her." James was looking at a catalog of readymades. 

Steve shrugged. "Don't know. I ain't got much interest in those type of things." 

"Remind me to get her measures for the next time." 

"You tryin to buy my ma a dress, Barnes?" Steve laughed. 

"Might be." James also chuckled. "Say, you wanna camp on the creek tonight, me n you?" 

Steve was about to answer when he saw, through the shop window, a young Chinese man, carrying a huge sack of something on his shoulders. The young man accidentally knocked into a man with slicked back hair and baggy pants. 

The slicked back man pushed the young man, making him drop his burden. Steve could tell the bag split by the cloud of it's contents rising up.

______________________

They were relatively quiet riding back. Steve sat sullen with a black eye, James sported a split lip. 

"I wanna camp out by the creek." Steve finally answered James' earlier question. 

James cracked a smile. "Alright then. But let me tell ya just one thing. . . If you're gonna fight you're gonna have to get someone to learn you how to." 

"I think there's a lot of things I'm gonna have to have somebody learn me. Far as the world is concerned." Steve sighed heavily.  
The mood in the truck lightened somewhat and most of the negativity faded to nil once they were parking near Powder Creek. 

James carried most of the gear to the creek. He'd revealed the location of Le's secret compartment under the seat of the truck. 

The ring of stones Eddie had built was still there and Steve proved proficient at building a fire. 

James set up their bedrolls near the fire opposite one another so they could look across the embers at one another. 

While Steve sketched in the fading light, James fished with a handline.  
He didn't catch anything but it gave Steve a good subject to draw:

James ankle deep in the water, his britches legs rolled up to his knees.

Steve wished he had colors to use like real artists. His ma had bought him a color print book of old masterpieces for Christmas one year. It had really lit the fire he held for drawing. 

He wished he could render James like that. In oils with light playing on his styled hair and seaglass eyes. 

"Well, Stevie nothin's bitin'." James announced as he plopped down beside him on the log by the fire. "Whatcha drawin' there?" He asked curiously.

Steve handed over the book and James whistled low. "Lord, this fella's a looker." James laughed. 

"Well you told me I had to draw you first." Steve rest his chin on his closed fist, looking over at the drawing as James inspected it.

"Y'even got my split lip." He mused running his thumb over his own lip.  
"Your ma is gonna tear her hair when she sees that shiner you got, pal." 

He was very gentle when he reached out and touched the edge of the bruise on Steve's cheek. 

Steve leaned into the touch, James' fingers feeling cool and soothing on the injury. "She might tear my head off." Steve laughed. "Think I'd have done Le proud?" 

"Ayuh. I think so." James laughed too. Then his expression fell a bit. "Stevie please be careful when you pick your fights." 

They both knew Steve would have gotten whipped sure if James hadn't been there.

James palm now rest on Steve's cheek, thumb tracing his cheekbone. 

"I'll be careful, Bucky." Steve promised in a hushed voice. 

"Also uh, I feel kinda bad about makin' you stand lookout for me 'n Victoria Grace." James bore a sheepish look. 

"Oh, that." Steve sighed. "Its nothin, I didn't mind. Not really." 

James cracked a tight lipped smile. "Appreciate it, pal." 

When they went to bed down, Steve didn't say anything about James dragging his bedroll over beside his.  
He also said nothing when James gathered him up in his arms. 

"Say, Buck?" Steve broke the sleepy silence. 

"Hm?" James replied, nestling his face in between Steve's neck and shoulder.

"Why _does_ LeAnder fight like a hellcat? Why does he have such a chip on his shoulder?" Steve asked.

James shifted so he could prop up on his elbow, looking at Steve. "Well I reckon thats a lot of pieces to a big puzzle." He began "Le and Homer's daddy was killed in the coal mine cave in the night Le was born." 

Steve gasped softly, he remembered his ma and her friend talking about that tragedy though it had happened years ago.  
It had effected the local economy in a bad way for a long time. 

"They say Homer saw it happen before it ever did. Homer named LeAnder, did you know that?"  
Steve shook his head and James continued. 

"Well Gideon Ruth, that was their daddy, he was foreman on the job when it all happened. Lots of folks blamed him. But it was a gas leak or something, nobody coulda said it was gonna happen." 

"Now, for a few years after that, people gave the Widow Ruth hell. Blaming, cussing, cursing, throwing bricks through their windows." James frowned. "Not like she didnt have two little boys to take care of on her own. Wasn't their fault."  
James sat up, running his hands back through his hair. "When Le got up older he had to face the youngins of the men who died in that mine. I reckon thats where the fighting started. Then when Le was seven his best friend-- a little black kid-- got killed in a Klan raid. That started the fire he got about them damn Kluxes." James took a stick of candy from his shirt pocket and started sucking on it. Steve had no idea where he got it, he never saw him buy any. 

"Thats miserable." Steve stated as he got comfortable under the blanket.

James nodded, sliding back down himself. "Want some?" He offered, holding the candy out to Steve.  
Steve nodded and James passed it over.  
Steve sucked on the confection slowly, twisting it as he did so. It was sarsaparilla flavored.  
When he passed it back James popped it right back into his own mouth. "What do you want for your Birthday, Stevie?" He asked after a while.

"You done gave me too much." Steve laughed out of nervousness. 

"Naw!" James protested. "Want me to fix you up with a pretty girl? Go to the pictures?" 

A pretty girl? No, somehow that seemed strange to Steve. He couldn't place why exactly it was strange but it just didn't sit well. 

"Nah I'd rather all of us fellers camp out. Me, you, Homer, Eddie n Le." Steve curled closer to his bedmate. "Fry us a chicken." He could barely keep his eyes open, just breathing in a mixed scent of James, sarsaparilla and the lingering ghost of Victoria Grace.


	3. Down to the River to Pray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's birthday finally rolls around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some explicit stuff.

By the time the fourth of July rolled around, Sarah Rogers was almost used to Steve coming home beat up.   
Almost used to the pride with which he took his lumps.   
Almost.

James Barnes had become a regular fixture in their lives. He stayed there practically more than he did his own home.

The boys had taken to piling up all the couch cushions in the tiny sitting room and sleeping there.   
James was always bringing something or other over to the house. Food, mostly, but he'd brought Mrs Rogers a pot of flowers once. 

Now Steve's birthday had rolled around. Of course, having a birthday on a national holiday meant there was bound to be a celebration by default. It also meant plenty of mischief was to be had. 

Presently LeAnder sat in the gnarled branches of an apple tree. He was picking apples and tossing them down to Eddie and Homer's waiting hands.  
The boys were technically trespassing. _Technically_ stealing, but they needed plenty of stuff for Steve's party.

James had told them it was meant to be a knock-down-drag-out party. Mostly on account of Steve never having had a proper birthday. 

Earlier that morning, Homer and Eddie had unpacked the hollow log to get at the moonshine Homer had buried in the bottom.   
Two jars had a sufficiently bloated half a peach floating in it. The other two were packed with strawberries. 

They were going to take their typical independence day celebration up a notch,   
have a real old time.

As Le began to climb down from the tree he popped an apple between his teeth.   
Eddie helped him down, making sure he didn't get caught on any branches. 

Homer stood nearby, peeling an apple with his pocket knife. "Reckon we aught to see to findin us a chicken to fry." He stated, chucking the peel toward a ditch. 

"A chicken?" Le questioned. 

Homer nodded slowly, cutting a slice of apple and eating it off the flat of his knife.  
"Ayuh, James said he'd see to th' firecrackers if'n we was to see to findin a chicken for fryin'." 

Eddie who had been in thought about the bird since Homer mentioned it, got a huge grin on his face. "Old man Bishop. He's got all them chickens." He looked at the other two young men conspiratorially. "In and out real quick? Get us a fat hen?" 

Le tossed his finished apple core and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm.  
It sounded like a grand plan in theory. In practice it sounded hard. Old man Bishop had hounds, a shotgun and a wife who was would be worse to cross than a grizzly bear.   
"I reckon if we can sneak in. . . We might stand us a chance." Le had a childish mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Let me do the sneakin', Homer, you n Eddie keep a lookout?" 

The boys stood and outlined their plans for the better part of fifteen minutes.   
Then, they were running across the fields, hopping ditches in the July heat. 

Old man Bishop had a farm about a mile and a half from Powder Creek. It sat in a little dip in the earth and was ringed in a low fence.   
A few cows and sheep meandered over the expanse between the fence line and the first of the outbuildings. 

The plan was going well so far. Homer and Eddie went alone up the dirt road to the farmhouse. Boone walked off his lead beside them. They had a bucket full of apples between them.   
They knocked on the door on the pretense of giving Mrs Bishop apples they had "extra".   
In reality they were keeping tabs on the two inhabitants of the farm. 

Boone was an excellent excuse for the other hounds baying as they were. 

The pair stood passing the time of day with Mrs Bishop, who was more than happy with the apples.

The older woman asked after Homer's ma and commented at length on the weather.

Meanwhile, LeAnder snuck around from the East, directly to the henhouse. 

He wrung two fat hen's necks and lit out for the little copse of woods that crested the hill behind the Bishop place. He stowed the hens in a safe place and took off again for the farm. 

This time Le came up the road. He put on an angry face and hollered at Homer when he was in sight. "Hey you no good! Y'left me in that ditch!" He lied outright, making a good show if it.

It was really the perfect plan. Keep the Bishops occupied, Le is his own all-clear signal and they were home free.

The two elder boys excused themselves from Mrs Bishop and took Le by the shoulders. 

When they were clear of the farm they collapsed in laughter.

"Lord, Le, you can sure put on like you're mad!" Eddie practically howled. 

They were in the woods now, collecting Le's chickens.   
What a good day this was already turning out to be.   
"Regular Robin Hoods." Le mused. "Giving to the poor. The poor bein' us." He laughed. 

Homer gave a short whistle to reign in Boone, who was chasing rabbits in the clearing.   
"Reckon we should head back toward th' Creek." He nodded to himself and set off down the hill. 

They weren't back in the shade at the Creek five minutes before James sauntered along. 

He emerged from the cornfield with a sack over his shoulder and a box under his arm. He wore his shirt open, letting his thin undershirt show. His britches were turned up to the knee and he was barefoot.   
"Well if it ain't a bunch of hobos gathered up in the shade." He chided with a laugh, putting his things down. "Y'all get that chicken?"

"Two fat 'uns no thanks t' you, boy!" Le jumped to his feet and wrestled James to the ground, both boys laughing. 

Le got James into a full headlock. "C'mon pretty boy, say uncle!" Le shrieked with laughter, intentionally mussing up James' hair.

James growled and tried getting a better grip on the younger Ruth boy.   
Le was just too wiry and agile.   
Eventually James tried using just his weight to flip Le but, the guy held onto James' back like a leech. 

"Alright! Uncle!" James cried after exhausting himself and all his moves. 

Le mussed James' hair once more as he let him go.   
"Whatcha got in yon sack, Barnes?" Le asked, nosing around. 

"Firecrackers, a Roman candle. . . Food. The usual stuff." James replied, brushing himself off. "That box has a pie in it so don't none of youns heathens go messin with it!" 

"Kinda pie is it?" Eddie asked, eyeing the box. Hell, they were all eyeing the box. 

"Rhubarb n strawberry, now let it alone." James put it by their fire pit and stood with his arms crossed.   
They had all decided not to go to the town's celebration, they could see the few fireworks from the Creek. Homer and Eddie would rather fish than dance. Besides, if they wanted music and all, Homer could pick a banjo.

"Le, lemme borrow your truck." James said after arranging some of the stuff from his bag. 

"Aw what fer?" Le groaned, always loath to give up the reigns for something trivial. 

"So Stevie ain't gotta walk in this blessed heat!" James groaned. "Plus I managed rustling up some girls." 

Homer fixed James in a withering stare.   
"Breakin' the code?" He slowly sealed the seam of his cigarette with his tongue. "Havin' some daffy girls in our spot?" 

"It ain't like that, they ain't even local!" James was getting more and more exasperated. 

"Besides not all of us take courting girls as a profession." Eddie snorted.

"What's that mean, DuPont?" James shot back.

"Miracle some little filly's daddy ain't come lookin for ya with a shotgun yet is alls I'm sayin'." Eddie shrugged. "My own daddy included." He added under his breath.

That much was true though it made James' blood boil to admit. He was about to open his mouth in retort but Homer cut him off.

"It's on you if we come here one day and it's overrun with folks." Homer shrugged, lighting up his cigarette. "Le, let him borrow that truck of yourn." 

Le groaned and threw up his hands. "Fine!"   
___________________

Steve was a little dumbfounded by the gaggle of young women in the back of Le's truck.   
He'd told James not to bother with finding any but, the older boy seemed hell-bent on fixing Steve up with somebody.

"You sure outdid yourself." Steve said softly as he climbed in beside James. 

"Just looking out for my best pal." James stated with a shrug.  
"Happy birthday, Stevie." He smiled and it lit up the world a little bit. Steve smiled back not knowing his own did the same for James.

"Thanks, Bucky." 

The ride back to the Creek was calm to say the least, slow to say a bit more. James drove easy for the girls on the back.

The girls were noisy, chattering and giggling. 

"You really didn't have to do all this, Buck." Steve muttered. 

"Hush now, I told ya. It ain't no big thing." James pulled the truck up beside the cornfield and hopped out.   
He and Steve helped the four girls out of the truck and lead them toward the Creek. 

Steve could smell food cooking before they'd cleared the corn. The sound of someone tuning a banjo carried on the hot July breeze. 

He smiled up at the late-afternoon sun, letting it warm him to his bones. 

When they broke into the clearing on the creek bank, Le was rolling a watermelon out of the creek. He'd had it in there, cooling in the swift mountain water. 

"Well if'n it ain't Mr Fourth-of-July his self!" Le exclaimed, resisting the urge to playfully wrestle his newest friend to the ground. 

"Afternoon, fellas." Steve greeted, taking his usual seat on the dead log by the fire. 

Eddie grinned over at him. "James thinks he's gonna turn you into some smooth talker like him. All them girls." He laughed under his breath. Eddie was cooking as usual. He seemed to be the only one amongst them that wasn't near on to useless at it. 

"I think he's foolin' his self." Steve gave a half hearted chuckle as he glanced to the edge of the creek. James was busy showing all four girls how he could cast a line.   
"Not one of em has looked my way, Eddie." 

Steve had his tablet of paper tucked under his arm and as he settled in he started drawing in it. 

"I wouldn't worry much about girls, Steve." Eddie said, flipping the chicken he was frying. "You're young yet. Hell, I don't even take many girls out and I'm bout old as Homer." 

Steve shrugged. It really wasn't much of a concern to him, sure he wanted to court a girl, sure he wanted to get married one day. . . But it seemed like his life was just starting. He wanted to cram it full. 

As the evening wore on they had a grand time.   
They ate chicken, apples, baked beans and pie, roasted corn and watermelon. They laughed and joked.   
Eddie and Homer fished and Le, surprisingly enough, charmed the girls with his tree climbing prowess.

James disappeared at one point and came back with a rumpled shirt and further mussed hair. A sheepish girl followed behind him, blushing like a Minister's daughter.  
Steve didn't even know these girl's names.   
He had barely spoke to them.

When it started getting dark, Homer brought out his banjo and Everyone tried dancing. The only two really proficient at dancing solo were Le and Eddie. Steve was all left feet and James preferred having a partner. 

As the first firework went off in town they all stopped and looked at the distant sky. Even so far away Steve could feel the thunder-like rumble in his bony chest. 

When the first girl started saying how late it was Le offered to take them back into town before they were missed. 

They had a hard time prying a tall plump girl with soft, black ringlets--- her name may have been Beth-- away from James. 

Indeed as she reluctantly left, James gave her a long, sweet kiss, the likes of which Steve had only ever seen at the pictures. It made Steve's cheeks flush. 

When Le and the girls cleared the creek bank, Homer stood, putting his banjo aside.

"Now that the womenfolk is gone I reckon we can get at the good stuff." He nodded to Eddie and the pair practically ran to the hollow log. 

James came to sit beside Steve by the fire. "Havin' a good time, pal?" He asked Steve

Steve was still working his way through a huge slice of watermelon, he grinned up at James. "Best birthday I ever had." He replied, wiping his mouth. 

"Sorry bout them daffy girls." James sheepishly apologized. "I reckon I should have listened to ya, pal." 

Steve laughed a little. "Well you enjoyed having em so I guess it ain't a total loss, Buck." 

"Oh I got ya something!" James exclaimed suddenly, making Steve jump and almost drop his watermelon. 

From his bag, James pulled out a long thin box. Steve gasped when he read what it was. "Watercolors!" They were real ones like artists used.

Steve really did drop his watermelon now, as he threw his arms around James. 

James laughed easy and gave Steve a little squeeze in return. "Again, I---"

"You wanna be the first subject, I know ya." Steve said grinning cheekily.

James practically giggled. "Correct ya are there Stevie." 

When Eddie and Homer returned they were carrying the jars of moonshine.  
"Steve aught not make a face over this." Homer joked good naturedly as he handed a strawberry jar to him.

Steve looked at the Mason jar with it's rusted lid and bloated contents. "Moonshine?" He asked giving it a little shake. 

"Ayuh." Homer was already gulping mouthfuls of peach. 

Steve unscrewed the jar lid and sniffed it's contents. It still smelled like it could strip paint but there was also the underlying scent of strawberries. Steve took a sip and grimaced. 

James laughed and reached his long fingers into the jar. He plucked out one of the strawberries and pressed it to Steve's lips. "Most of the alcohol is in the fruit anyhow." He practically purred. 

Steve let him push the entire berry into his mouth. It was certainly a mouthful. It still tasted strong but somehow chewing it seemed to make it a little better.  
"Not bad eh?" James asked him, eating one himself. "But take it easy they're strong." 

By the time Le got back the other four boys were well on their way to drunk. Being honest Steve was already there and now easily sipping the 'shine from the jar.

Not to be outdone, Le ate an entire peach half in record time. "Sonsabitches startin' without me!" He shrieked half hysterical half laughing. 

"Slow 'er down, pup." Homer stated, putting his hand on LeAnder's head.

Le ducked the hand growling: "Ain't no pup no more." 

"Hmph." Homer grunted. He easily picked the younger Ruth up and hauled him kicking and screaming through the woods. 

Eddie couldn't help but bust out into laughter. "Reckon that's our swimming cue, boys." He stood up and shucked off his clothes then, took off in the direction Homer had gone. 

James stared after him, he was eating chocolate again, Lord knows where he even got it from.   
"We gonna go?" Steve asked, slightly slurring as he reached out and snatched a piece of candy. 

"Think you can walk it, Rogers?" James asked with a lazy smile on his face. "Or do I gotta carry ya like Le?" 

Steve laughed uninhibitedly and stood on wobbly legs. "Come on Bucky. Let's go!" He exclaimed, struggling to get out of his clothes. 

James laughed at his struggle then stood to help him. 

Soon both boys were steadily making their way to the swimming hole.   
Crickets and frogs chirped and croaked making a symphony of the summertime.   
Lightening bugs flit in and around the bushes. The night was beautiful, a masterpiece only Appalachia could paint.

Steve had commandeered the little box of chocolates and was steadily munching his way through them.

"Save a fella some." James whined, reaching for the box.

Steve laughed and showed him that it was empty. "Sorry, Buck." He said, grinning stupidly. "They're all gone." 

James glared a bit at him but, in their drunken state it looked more like a serious squint. 

"Not all gone." James stopped in front of Steve, making the smaller fellow almost run into him.

Again just like the day in the truck, James reached out his hand. His thumb swiped slowly over Steve's lower lip.   
Steve wasn't sure whether it was out of spite or what but he found himself sucking James' thumb into his mouth. His tongue licked all the chocolate off it, denying James the taste. 

James' expression became unreadable. It was one of those kind of looks that gave Steve somersault stomach.   
"Didn't know you were so spiteful, Stevie." James chided. He took a step forward, Steve took a step back.   
"Begrudging a man a little chocolate."   
James still had his hand on Steve's chin. 

"Think I can't still get a taste?" 

Steve felt his back hit a narrow tree trunk. 

James stayed right in front of him, one hand on Steve's chin the other on the tree trunk. 

Steve's mouth went dry. 

James' eyes flit down to Steve's lips then back up to catch him in a deep gaze. 

Steve's eyes were saucer-wide, he shook a bit even in the summer heat. 

James traced his thumb along his lower lip again. It was different this time though, slow and deliberate. 

Steve's heart was racing and his head was spinning. 

James suddenly barked out a laugh. "I'm joshin' ya, Stevie." He said, stepping a pace back. "C'mon, let's go swim." 

Something welled up in Steve, he felt half like he could cry and half like he wanted to run. It came out as a high pitched, nervous laugh. "Y-yeah, swim." He stammered pushing past James a bit too roughly. 

James groaned to himself, he grabbed Steve by the arm as he passed. 

Steve yelped in surprise when James twirled him around and to his chest. 

James didn't think about what he was doing next. He pushed implication and apprehension out of his mind.  
He roughly tilted Steve's chin up and claimed the young man's lips. 

Steve stiffened against him, his entire body going rigid. This couldn't be happening. James was a boy---- _Steve_ was a boy! 

"Bucky!" Steve gasped, pulling away. His eyes searched his friend's for a moment.   
"Bucky. . . " The name sounded more like a plea now. 

Slowly James leaned back in, testing the waters. Steve didn't move when James pressed his lips to his again. 

Steve's eyes slowly closed and he let himself melt against the taller boy. 

James held Steve firmly now. He gave him one of those in-the-movies types of kisses, Steve had witnessed from the outside many times. 

Steve had a feeling burning in his gut that felt like it was going to consume him. 

He moaned against James' mouth. When he parted his lips to make the sound, James' tongue slipped inside. 

Steve felt weak in the knees, his thighs were shaking. He grabbed onto James and it made the other boy seem more eager to kiss him than ever. 

When they parted, each panting, it was Steve that pulled James back in. He kissed him hard and clumsily.   
Steve could taste the moonshine strawberries James had been eating, it mixed well with the chocolate. Just as James had promised it would. 

James moaned just as much as Steve did, breaking their frantic kissing just to breathe. 

Their hands were everywhere on each other. Just their naked flesh in the sweltering heat, not a witness but the moon and stars. 

Steve wanted something more, desperately. He wanted to melt into this boy, he wanted to get closer, closer than flesh would allow.   
"I want you." Was all he could articulate. 

James was kissing down the column of his neck, nipping and sucking at the pulse.

"I want you too. More'n I can stand." James groaned, sliding lower. His tongue swiped over a small pink nipple. Steve keened, putting his hand over his mouth. There was a fire pooling in his loins.   
Every touch James gave him went straight to his hardening manhood. 

"Bucky!" He moaned out into the night air. 

James stood straight again and pressed their pelvises together. One hand clapped firmly onto Steve's ass and he rolled his hips. The friction was delicious. Steve threw his head back, moaning sharply. He grabbed onto James' back, digging his nails in as the other boy continued to grind their cocks together. James had the unfair advantage of experience and it was all making Steve dizzy.

It wasn't long before Steve felt a building pressure in his balls. He was mewling sharply at this point and rocking his hips along with James.   
"B-bucky! Something's--! Ah! Bucky!" Steves vision whited as he came, thick and sticky between their bodies.

James stifled his own cry of release by biting onto Steve's shoulder.  
They both sank down to the leaf covered ground, tangled in each other. 

They sat silent together until they caught their breath. James leaned in and kissed Steve again, long and slow. 

Every swipe of his tongue made Steve moan softly. Steve's mouth was prettily kiss swollen. 

James pulled back, smiling. 

"You sweet on me, Buck?" Steve asked coyly, his voice still slow and deep from alcohol. 

"I'm sweet on you, Rogers." James chuckled deep and sensual. When he leaned back in it wasn't Steve's lips he kissed but his neck. His lips parted on the sweat-slicked skin and he sucked hard, nipping with his teeth.   
He knew he was leaving a mark, knew it was dangerous. But Lord Jesus, the sounds Steve made. The younger boy's toes curled and he gripped hard onto James' shoulders. 

Neither boy was of the mind to think on how apparently wrong or dangerous this was. How much of a sin they were commiting.

James left marks down Steve's chest, on his inner thighs, everywhere he could get his mouth. 

"Nnh! Bucky!" Steve was moaning as the other boy nipped at the join of his thigh.   
Steve's prick was rock hard again, leaking precum even. 

James' heart was pounding, he looked up at Steve. For the first time there was apprehension, nervousness in his eyes. 

He licked his lips slowly then moved a little, shifting so his breath ghosted against Steve's cock. 

Steve looked down at him, a shaking hand came to rest on James' cheek. It slid down, Steve's slender fingertips playing over his lips, over the slight indent in his chin.   
James kissed Steve's fingertips then moved the hand to his hair.   
When Steve raked his nails through it, James groaned deep, closing his eyes.

He leaned forward closing the gap between his lips and Steve's cock.   
Steve made a soft gasping sound as James kissed his tip.   
Steve's fingers gripped onto James' hair.   
The other boy's hand wrapped around Steve's shaft while his lips and tongue played over the precum slickened head. 

James learned by the small sounds and how tightly Steve tugged at his hair, just what the boy liked. 

"Mhh!" Steve moaned onto the back of his hand, each time James' tongue teased at the slit, each time it dipped in just slightly. "Bucky I---! Nnh please, Bucky!" It was too much, he wanted more. Without really knowing what he was doing, he tugged James' head down hard.   
James moaned deep as his mouth was forced down onto Steve's length. He looked up at the other boy with fire in his eyes. It made Steve's prick twitch in his mouth.   
James kept him locked in his gaze as he began to bob his head over it. At this rate, Steve wasn't going to last very long.   
His sounds turned wanton, stifled behind his hand.   
When Steve came for the second time that night, James swallowed it down. He sucked him through it, til he was whimpering. 

"Alright, Rogers?" James asked breathlessly when he rose up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

Steve shook all over. "Y-yeah." He gasped.

"C'mon then ol son." James stood, offering him a hand. "We need 'ta wash up."   
When Steve stood his knees were shaking so bad he had to lean on James.  
James lightly chuckled and half guided his friend to the creek.   
He knew they couldn't show up to the swimming hole in the state they were in. 

He was glad his body was still humming with alcohol, glad his brain was still warm and fuzzy. What he'd done wasn't settling in yet. 

Maybe Steve wouldn't even remember any of it come morning.

The cool water of the creek felt good on their heated skin. James was careful not to let Steve fall even though the creek was shallow where they'd entered it. 

He likewise helped wash the other boy up. 

They both became bashful toward one another, especially Steve. He turned away as he let the creek wash the sweat and other fluids from his body. 

James stole little glances as he washed down. He started to say something several times but couldn't find the words.   
At last he just settled on "Ya okay?" 

"Think maybe this here water is sobering me up too much." Steve sighed softly. "You _really_ sweet on me?" 

James almost blurted that he was sweet on him like no other, like he'd hung the moon.   
"I'm sweet on lots of folks." Is what came out and a little more gruffly than intended. "Like I told ya before." 

Steve nodded "aight, then." He didn't say more til he had waded back out of the creek. "Just so's you know, I ain't ever done anything like that before, James Barnes."   
James knew he meant to sound mad but he just sounded sort of broken.

James followed after him, rolling his eyes.   
"Come on let's get back to the camp." He took Steve under his arm like always and lead the other boy back through the woods.

Steve didn't refuse another big gulp of moonshine, or the piece of chicken James offered him.

Steve didn't remember falling asleep but for once he woke up alone.  
His head pounded and he was confused at James' absence.   
When he sat up it was far too fast and his head swam.   
"Lord." He groaned, covering his eyes. The sun was high. How long had he slept?

"Welcome to the land of the livin' Rogers." Eddie was a few feet away, cooking something as usual. It smelled good but the thought of eating anything made Steve's stomach turn.   
"Where's Bucky?" He asked groggily. 

"Fishin. He didn't wanna wake you up." Steve glanced toward the Creek, light glinting off the water hurt his eyes.   
He groaned but did indeed make out the form of James Barnes fishing, sitting on the bank.   
"Homer n Le lit out at first light to go look for Boone. He took off last night." Eddie made small talk as he cooked what Steve recognized now to be fried potatoes and bacon. 

Eddie saying "you look like you had fun last night." Nearly snapped Steve perfectly sober.   
His hand went to his neck where Eddie pointed and he blushed scarlet.   
Eddie laughed. "I thought I saw you sneaking off with that Rollins girl but I hadn't been sure."

It was true, Steve had chivalrously taken the Rollins girl to Le's truck to fetch a blanket to sit on. She had complained of ruining her dress in the dirt.   
Had they done something together? Steve's mind was a piecey fog.   
Steve had flashes of pale skin in the moonlight, deep groans. It wasn't smooth dewy skin Steve remembered it was the rough scrape of stubble. 

He smiled sheepishly at Eddie but didn't say anything. 

When he got up to join James at the waters edge, the older boy practically flinched. "Morning?" James tested the waters, eyeing him sidelong. 

Steve gave him the usual small smile. "Morning, Buck. Last night was something huh?"   
James' mind raced, he remembered everything, did Steve? "Yeah. Uh, too bad we never got to the swimmin hole, eh?" 

Steve's confused look told him everything. "Didn't we?" However, Steve piped up with a. "Can we go now then? Swimmin'?" 

"I reckon." James nodded and stood. He didn't immediately strip off his clothes but did start walking in the right direction.

He walked a little fast for Steve for once.   
Steve was wheezing a little as he struggled to keep up. "B-bucky wait!" Steve called.  
Not only did he not want to have a full blown asthma attack, but he had to know. He had to know how much of that he'd dreamed or if any of it were real.  
He reached and grabbed James' hand, meaning the older boy had to either stop or drag Steve through the brush.

He stopped.  
"What's the matter, pal?" James asked, standing a little tensely. 

"I uh. . ." Steve didn't know how to continue, what to say. "Bucky, did. . . Last night. . ." He squeezed James' hand. His heart was pounding. "James did we. . ." 

James' face was devoid of emotion, carefully so. "Get drunk and act fools? Yeah." 

"That ain't what I mean. . .I mean. . . I don't know what I mean!" Steve was frustrated but he didn't let go of James' hand.  
No, instead he pulled the bigger lad, hard.   
He pulled him hard down into a kiss. 

James wanted to deflate into relieved heap. He wanted to but he didn't. He tensed but didn't pull away. He let Steve kiss him. He let the other boy have his way with his mouth.   
When Steve pulled away James couldn't take it, the glistening look of hopefulness in his eyes, how pink and wet his lips were.   
The boys all did dangerous stuff for the time, courting out of race, openly opposing segregation, too. But this was a different level. Sure Steve wasn't the first fella he'd had. Homer was the only one who knew and he had wanted to keep it that way. James was also never the one to let an obstacle stand in his way. 

Steve was suddenly dangerous but James Barnes flirted with danger daily. "You wasn't dreamin'." He murmured to Steve, pulling him back close. "Lord, I'm sweet on you, Stevie."   
He kissed Steve then like he wanted to devour him. It wasn't like the clearly practised kisses Steve was used to witnessing.   
Both boys began stripping down right there in the woods in broad daylight. They barely parted lips as they took one another in hand.   
James swallowed down all Steve's moans.   
When they finished they sank to the ground on trembling legs.   
It was different sober. Steve liked it. 

James rubbed his thumb over Steve's kiss swollen lips. "We gotta be careful." He stated softly. "This is a bible-believin'-gun-totin' community. But I want you."

Steve's heart dropped to his gut. "I. . . It's a sin." He seemed to recall. "Bein' like this is a sin."

"Stevie, I could make a whole new religion outta your lips." James stated in an almost serious tone. 

"Don't blaspheme." Steve groaned. He was suddenly lost in the thought of his immortal soul. He was panicking.   
James took him by the shoulders.   
"Stevie, you know yer verses don't ya? What's proverbs 10:12?" 

Steve focused on James' face and nodded.   
"Hatred stirreth up strifes but love covers all sins." He hiccupped.

"Right. I love ya. Sin covered."  
James pecked his lips again chastely.

Steve groaned deeply  
"I don't think that's what that means, Buck!" 

"Too bad. Absolved." James stood and pulled Steve along with him. "I _do_ intend to swim sometime this mornin' Rogers."   
James walked with a spring in his step. The summer sun was warm and honeysuckles were heavy on the vine offering their intoxicating aroma. Why couldn't he and Steve just be? Why couldn't they be two boys in love in this beautiful place?


End file.
